


when we’re ready

by samedifference61



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Kylux Cantina, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, the softest kylux
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-04-08 12:23:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14105307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samedifference61/pseuds/samedifference61
Summary: Written for theKylux Cantinaprompt: guilty pleasureThey have a standing, private appointment on the seventh and twenty-first cycle of every month.





	when we’re ready

**Author's Note:**

> I have...no excuses for this.

“Today is the seventh cycle of the month, General.”

Hux doesn’t turn from analyzing the report just sent from communications. He’s leaning over the console on the bridge—and purposefully _not_ turning toward Ren. He’s hovering on the raised catwalk at the command viewport, dressed in his usual mask and cowl.

“I am aware of the date, Ren,” Hux says, posture going ridged at what Ren is almost-discussing with him in front of the bridge crew. After Hux’s shift, they have a standing, private appointment on the seventh and twenty-first cycle of every month.

Hux established these standing appointments as a way to break Ren from the irritating habit of asking, ‘ _When? When can we—? Today? Is it time yet?’_ All of it passed along telepathically at the most inconvenient times—most often when Hux was addressing staff at meetings, or while giving critical commands on the bridge, and once during a mid-level ship-wide alert that could have resulted in an enemy attack if at least one of them didn’t behave as an adult with actual responsibilities.

Hux can’t decide if Ren behaving like an over-excited, arrogant child with no sense of delayed gratification is all an act, or only partly an act.

Once, Hux resorted to patiently explaining why waiting _made it better._  Ren’s knowing smirk only flustered Hux into squawking, “I have a _fucking_ job to do. Stop interrupting me with our personal matters. Do you not understand how this could have far reaching consequences for both of us?” This was followed up with Ren making an inane comment about how much Hux would like it if he begged, that he would get down on his knees if it helped.

After that, Hux had turned on his heel in a huff, leaving Ren without an answer. Hux simply refused to have any more of _that_ conversation in a very public hallway.

On the bridge, Ren is still hovering. “Your shift ends in eighteen minutes. Shall I wait for you?”

Purposefully addressing their standing appointments aloud and on the bridge in front of everyone is something new, and Hux flushes at the implications. He will need to contain this as delicately as possible so as not to interrupt their arrangement—Hux _likes_ their arrangement—while keeping this embarrassing guilty pleasure between them as _they agreed it would remain._

Hux hisses, “I have a report to send to Supreme Leader. I know where you’ll be once I’ve finished. I can manage escorting myself, but thank you for offering. It’s very kind of you.”

Chief of Communications, Lieutenant Griggs, doesn’t flinch at the ridiculous conversation happening around her. This attention to professionalism is among the reasons why she remains one of the longest standing bridge officers aboard the Finalizer.

“Fine. I’ll be waiting,” Ren says, sweeping away in the direction away from Hux— but leaves behind an intense mental image of their last standing appointment.

_Skin to skin, warmth, hand curled around his wrist, cheek to chest._

Hux hates him for it and resolves to take his time getting to his quarters just to make Ren wait a little longer.

* * *

When Ren isn’t waiting for him, Hux has half a moment to panic before he gets a hold of himself, feeling ridiculous for resorting to such high levels of anticipation, for letting Kylo Ren be the source of said anticipation.

With the lights below fifty percent, Hux removes his great coat, hat and boots. Hangs the coat in his closet and decides he could do with some actual sleep if Ren’s feeling petulant today.

He’s fully ready for bed, sipping at his tea, and reading comm messages from his datapad when Ren appears—a full hour later.

“You’re late. Get out,” Hux says, not looking up from his datapad. He can be petty too.

Ren laughs behind the helmet, pulls it off to reveal a smile that’s all teeth and sweat damp hair that sticks to his forehead. He thinks he knows Hux doesn’t really mean it, and that only irritates Hux—because he doesn’t. Not really.

Hux pretends to read while he’s watching Ren undress from under his lashes. Ren must know this though because he never misses a chance to perform for an audience. He eases his gloves off, one at a time, then the cowl. The heavy outer tunic is next, revealing well defined muscles, shiny with sweat, flushed, and swollen from a recent workout—he must have been in the sim again.

“I was bored waiting,” Ren shrugs, answering the question Hux didn’t ask about what he was up to—sim training in the officer’s gym, apparently. The boots come off next. Then he lets the braces down and stretches out of his thin undershirt, making a grand show of himself. He turns to bend over as he steps out of his leggings, arse in the air.

Hux groans at this. “I’ve no idea why I let you in here,” he grumbles.

“I know why,” Ren answers, voice pitched low and thick. He moves toward the refresher, Hux’s refresher without asking, stretching his arms overhead as he goes.

 _No_ , Hux sighs. This was supposed to be an easy arrangement that happened a few times. He doesn’t really know why he lets it continue.

Ren returns in a few minutes, hair damp but his body is dry. He has on a pair of black briefs, but nothing else. Yawning wide, he stops at the edge of the bed and throws the towel to the foot of the bed. He combs his big fingers back through his hair, but it still flops down in his face afterword.

“Where do you want me, General?”

Ren only smirks when Hux sneers at him. He doesn’t wait for Hux to answer, kneels on the bed and crawls to Hux on all fours, Hux’s legs between his own. It isn’t very sexy, clumsy is how Hux would describe it—limbs too long and body too broad for such a maneuver. Hux can’t suppress a short laugh, but lets Ren take the datapad from him and leans over to place it on the night table.

When Ren’s close enough that Hux can smell the borrowed soap on his skin, he says, “The next time you keep me waiting, I’ll—” but Hux doesn’t get to finish his sentence because Ren presses his mouth to Hux’s and he never knows what to do other than open wide and let Ren kiss him more deeply. He reaches up to run his fingers through Ren’s damp hair.

They’ve gotten better at this as of late—the part where they’re kissing each other. Hux likes it more than he thought he would. The exchange of saliva, the hot slide of tongues— it always sounded awkward and unsanitary and so unnecessary, but Ren wanted to try and so they did. It often leaves Hux’s jaw aching and his lips swollen, but it also feels nice enough.

Hux finds he likes the weight of Ren hovering over him too, so he wiggles down the bed a bit further until Ren is directly above him, thighs bracketing his hips, gently rocking against each other. Hux pulls at Ren’s bottom lip with his teeth, remembers he liked that the last time and earns a huffed moan for his efforts. Yes, that’s good.

After a few long minutes, Ren settles them both onto their sides, and they kiss there too, slow and languid like they have centuries to do this kind of thing, like all of this isn’t happening on borrowed time in some bizarre rift in space where they get to have these soft, shared moments between the more decisive ones— the battles and scars and loss that have marked each of them in different ways.

Hux runs his fingertips over one scar he’s particularly fond of, a training wound that runs parallel to Ren’s last rib on his left side. Ren shivers from the touch, frowning while his eyes remain closed. He places a final kiss over Hux’s swollen lips before easing onto his back and rolling Hux toward him.

Hux follows easily, no longer flinching or going rigid when Ren insists on maneuvering him. He drapes himself over Ren’s warm chest, and Ren pulls him closer still, locks a big palm over Hux’s shoulder and trails fingertips over the knobs of his spine, up and under his tank.

At first Hux was suspicious of what Ren actually got from any of this, holding him as they slept, and he thinks maybe Ren simply craves physical touch more than he would ever admit to anyone—the proximity of another body, holding another person without anger or struggle. Maybe it’s something he’s never had before, or probably hasn’t since he was a kid in Leia’s arms, before Snoke wedged himself into Ren’s life and the rest became superfluous while Snoke sharpened Ren into a weapon.

“They think we’re fucking,” Hux says into Ren’s neck, pressing a soft kiss there to feel the pulse point on his lips. He only says it because it’s bothered him lately. It’s always been hard to shrug off what others think of him and gossip about this deeply personal thing between them has proven hardest to let go. “All of them, it would seem. I caught bits of a conversation between officers from engineering and communications three cycles ago in the cantina. And again between a group of ‘troopers just as I exited the lift yesterday.”

Ren hums, eyes already heavy with sleep. He doesn’t seem surprised or particularly bothered by this. “Let them talk.”

“We could be, you know. _Fucking_ ,” Hux adds quietly, draping his thigh over Ren’s hip so his knee rests over Ren’s cock.

They’re both a little hard, but arousal is nothing new.

It doesn’t make Hux’s cheeks flush and lash out in angry, deflecting insults as it did in the beginning, when he was still unsure how fast Ren wanted this to go, how quickly he would want to push Hux beyond his comfort zone, into something more intimate, foreign. It’s just their bodies reacting. That’s all. Hux finds it oddly reassuring that Ren does want him like that, but doesn’t— _hasn’t_ pushed him beyond this yet. Sleeping with his cheek to Ren’s bare chest, kissing him slowly, and letting Hux’s touches grow bolder with each standing appointment.

 _Gentle_ is never a word he would have used to describe Ren before all of this began.

“We could,” Ren trails off. He’s almost asleep but that suits Hux just fine. They’ll have the morning to push a little further beyond what they’ve already done together.

“We will,” Hux whispers, nearly asleep himself.

_When we’re ready._

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me on [tumblr.](https://samedifference61.tumblr.com/)


End file.
